A Tale of Two Sicknesses
by BabyBlossoms
Summary: Callie reflects on what it used to be like whenever she was sick, compared to how it is now. One-shot. [Sick-fic]. [Motherly fluff].


Hi, all! This is my first The Fosters fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it. I love sickfics and randomly had this idea, so I decided to write it up and see where it went. Please give any constructive criticism you have! It helps me write better. (: By the way, no romance in this. Just motherly fluff, my favorite. (:

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 _ **-January 2010-**_

"Jude, zip your jacket up. It's cold out."

"Okay."

Callie watched as her nine-year-old brother fumbled with the zipper on his lightweight jacket. It was freezing outside, with strong winds and a fine drizzle, but this was the warmest thing he had. He'd had it for years now; the cuffs were torn and dirty, and the zipper pull was broken.

Callie sighed and kneeled down to his height. "Let me help you." She zipped it up to his neck. "Come on. We've got to make it to the store before it closes. Did you take out the trash?"

Jude nodded. "Did you clean up the dishes from lunch?"

"Yeah. Hopefully we did everything right this time." Callie opened the door for her brother. Their new foster home was really strict about cleanliness. Callie and Jude had quickly learned to follow the family's stringent rules after they were punished for leaving their shoes out the third day they were there. Their foster parents had thought that the most appropriate punishment was locking the two kids out in the cold overnight. Since being placed in that house, Callie and Jude were also forced to cook most meals for the family, including the other two foster children in the home. They had only been there a week, and they were already ready to leave.

Callie locked the door behind them and sneezed. She and Jude had been under the weather the past few days, probably because of standing in the cold all night. She was up all last night taking care of a feverish Jude and was now exhausted.

The pair trudged down the sidewalk in silence. Callie shivered as the icy rain stung her face and pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. She had a pounding headache and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep. She knew Jude felt the same, but he wasn't one to complain.

Once they made it to the mini-mart on the corner, Callie grabbed a small carton of milk for their dinner and took it to the cashier, an older woman with curly red hair and a royal blue coat. As she rung it up, Callie sneezed again.

"Some cold front we're having," the cashier commented, eyeing Callie and Jude. She was probably wondering why kids this young were in a mini-mart at six p.m.

Callie nodded, sniffing and then sneezing again. Jude fished a tissue from his pocket and handed it to his sister.

"You should probably stay indoors," the cashier continued. "You don't want to catch pneumonia." She pointed to a few boxes of children's cold medicine on display. "You need this? I normally can't sell over-the-counter meds to minors, but..."

"Thanks," Callie told her, "but this is all we have." She pressed two dollar bills onto the counter for the milk. Really, all she wanted was some pain killer for her headache, but she wasn't allowed any medicine from her foster parents. They said it wasn't natural to give kids medicine, and wouldn't give her any fever reducer for Jude the previous day. "Sweat it out," they had told him, "and toughen up."

The cashier handed Callie the bag and change. "You two stay warm."

"You, too." Callie took Jude's hand and left, coughing into her other elbow.

The moment they walked in the door of the house, noise overwhelmed them. The other two foster kids, who were eight and six, were the loudest, most annoying kids they'd ever met. Callie, too exhausted to tell them to shut up, locked the door behind them and took off her shoes. Her feet felt like lead blocks; she wished she could collapse onto the couch and sleep.

While Jude set the table and tried to corral the other two kids, Callie quickly prepared a box of macaroni and cheese. She couldn't stop shivering, despite using the stove. Once it was finished, she distributed the pasta and then stared down at her own bowl, not really hungry. At least the house was finally quiet; everyone was eating.

Suddenly the door swung open. The foster mother, Liz, was home. Immediately the moment of silence was over. "Whose shoes are these?"

Callie tensed; had she put away her shoes when she'd gotten home? She had been so out of it, she couldn't remember.

Liz stormed into the kitchen, holding up a familiar pair of sneakers. Crap, they _were_ Callie's. How could she have been so stupid?

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Liz bellowed, stomping over to the table. "You've been here a whole week and have done nothing but cause trouble and deliberately disobey us!"

She grabbed Callie by the hair. Wincing, Callie rose out of her chair and stumbled after her foster mother, who opened the back door. "If you want to live like a filthy animal, then you'll be treated like one! Get out!"

She gave Callie a shove and slammed the door behind her. Callie rubbed her head, her scalp burning from her hair being yanked on. _Dang it. Another freezing night out here._

She shivered harshly, coughing again, and sank into the cold, wet grass.

 _ **-January 2014-**_

Callie rolled over in bed, the memory fresh in her mind. She would never forget that night, little twelve-year-old her shivering in the wind and rain, nose running so much that she gave up on wiping it. The next day she was sent home from school with a 103-degree temperature, and then admonished by her foster parents for being sick.

A light knock on the door startled her, and she glanced up to see Stef entering her room with a wicker basket and a glass of water. "Hey, love. You awake?"

Callie nodded, sitting up.

"How are you feeling?" Stef sat down at the foot of Callie's bed.

"Okay," Callie responded, her voice raspy. In all honesty she felt like crap; she had a pounding headache and her throat was raw from coughing.

Stef laid a cool hand on Callie's forehead. Callie tensed automatically, but Stef's touch was gentle. "You're still burning up. Here, take some Tylenol." She passed the water to Callie, rummaged in the basket for the bottle of Tylenol, and then handed her two capsules.

"I'm sorry you feel so badly, love." Stef watched as Callie took the pills. "Strep is really kicking your butt, hm?"

Callie nodded, setting the water down on her nightstand. "It's okay. You don't have to stay home from work again tomorrow. I can—-"

"I know you can take care of yourself," Stef interrupted her. "But I don't want to leave you here alone when you're so sick."

Callie was too exhausted to argue. "How's Jude?"

"Doing much better," Stef replied. "He'll be going back to school tomorrow."

Jude had been the first to get strep throat, and since he and Callie shared drinks and utensils all the time, Callie had caught it from him. It had been weird not taking care of him, like she'd done for the past six years.

"Well, rest up." Stef patted Callie's leg and rose to her feet.

"Hey, Stef?" Callie called out hoarsely.

Stef turned. "Hm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me." Callie could feel heat rising to her face, and it wasn't because of her fever. Feeling this vulnerable was hard for her; she was still getting used to it.

Stef smiled. "Anytime, love." She leaned down and kissed Callie on the head, then left the room.

Callie sank back under the covers, smiling. What a contrast, being sick when she was twelve and now, at sixteen. And as she fell asleep, she felt entirely at peace, warm under the covers and knowing that her mom was nearby to take care of her.

 _-End-_

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 **I know the ending was cheesy, but it was a fun fic to write nonetheless. I hope y'all liked it. Have an awesome day! (:**


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